


Vows

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [60]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: ...Kylo had some...





	

Kylo can’t actually remember what he blurted out, in front of everyone. He knows he had some things he’d memorised to say beforehand, but when he found himself facing Poe, their hands lightly clasped, their eyes on one another…

His mother, in front of them, ready to officiate. All these people - all these _friends_ and **family**. All here, wanting them happy. He could feel their affection pouring out like sunshine, and he’d just stammered out a lot of nonsense, burst into tears, and then been kissed until he quieted down again.

There was someone filming. Maybe he’ll manage to watch it, some day, without bursting into tears of joy again.

The little ones have all gone to bed, and now it’s just the adults. The food is gone, the speeches are gone, and people move from table to table, or wander out onto the dancefloor. The trees overhead are scattered through with glowing orbs, and it feels almost like Kashyyyk, or Yavin IV. 

The trees aren’t quite in blossom, but they’re in bud. Little pearls waiting to explode, and Kylo appreciates the symbolism. He’d been locked in his bud for far too long, growing stale and rotten. It had taken Poe’s love - and… well. No small amount of his own bloody-minded realisation that what he was doing… that…

He can’t think about that, right now. Instead he thinks about the man in his arms, as they dance their way between the streamed bits of flimsi, the splashes of drinks and the muted light from above.

Kylo has never been this happy. Never. He wants this day to just keep going on, but… well. Poe has a way of making him fall in love harder seven times before bed at _least_. From breakfast to bed, he just fills Kylo’s day with wonder, love, and peace.

“You’re… I don’t have words,” Kylo says, his cheek to Poe’s.  


“You had plenty before.”  


“…was I terrible?”  


“Maker, if I wasn’t already in the process of marrying you then, I would have proposed right on the spot, you nerf.”  


Kylo fights a giggle, and swirls them both around. “Really?”

“Yeah. In fact, maybe I divorce you so we can do it again.”  


“Pretty sure they’d catch onto it.”  


“…so… we don’t get two lots of presents?”  


The song comes to an end, and their swaying does, too. But Kylo keeps his hands on his waist, and nudges their noses to beg for a kiss. “Only you,” he whispers. “You are everything in the galaxy to me, Poe. **Everything**.”

To the point where maybe he should worry about how in love he truly is.

No.

He refuses to worry.

This… could never, ever be wrong.


End file.
